


can i be close to you

by zenelly



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, Snow, Tales of Secret Santa 2017, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: A snowy morning in Windor with Asbel and Richard leads to a question Richard hadn't planned on asking so soon.





	can i be close to you

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Tales of Secret Santa event this year! Thank you so much for letting me participate. My recipient is [b1a4seeyou](http://b1a4seeyou.tumblr.com) and I did some Richard/Asbel for their prompt "playing in the snow"! I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> The title is from "Bloom" by The Paper Kites (which is my quiet Richard/Asbel anthem tbh)

 

Watching the dawn filter through Asbel's hair is one of the best experiences in the world, Richard decides. It lights him in brilliant hues, softening the curves of his face from something remarkable to something that makes Richard's heart turn tender, too-large for his chest and the impossible emotion that flows through him. He reaches out, traces the line of Asbel's face with a whisper-soft touch.

God, he _loves_ this ridiculous boy.

"You're staring," Asbel murmurs, voice rough from disuse. One eye cracks open, a sweet sliver of blue, and Asbel smiles at Richard, soft, open.

Richard wouldn't stop himself from smiling in return even if he could. "Can you blame me? I get to wake up next to you. That's cause for smiling, Asbel."

A low chuckle. "I didn't ask you to stop."

"Good. Then I shall continue my perusal."

" _Perusal_ ," Asbel mocks, gentle, gentle, gentle. "Why stare when we could get up?"

Richard feels one of his eyebrows lift, confused but still warm with affection. His hand moves from Asbel's cheek to his neck, and he rubs a small circle there with his thumb, loving the way Asbel turns his head to allow Richard more access without a second thought. "Why would we want to do that when the bed is right here?"

"It snowed last night." Asbel grabs his hand. "We have to go play in it!"

“Asbel, I don't even have words for how early it is right now,” Richard says around a yawn, but Asbel's hand wrapped around his wrist is enough to motivate him to much worse things than getting up, as history has proven before. He lets himself be dragged out of bed, lets himself get dressed when kissing Asbel is clearly the far more interesting thing to do (but Richard is very biased. Kissing Asbel is one of his favorite things in the world to do, now that he's allowed.)

The moment Asbel gets outside and tilts his face up to the sky with wide-eyed delight is worth it, though. The white flakes dotting the sunrise in Asbel's hair, golden and white and red and all of Richard's favorites are tied together in this moment. Around them, the world is quiet, the wet surrusus of falling snow the only sound beyond their own breathing, their own steps. It's a world held in slumber, a welcome, organic stasis. 

And in the middle of it, Asbel.

Turning circles in the courtyard, his steps crunching beneath him, Asbel spreads his arms wide, clearly revealing in the weather.

"Asbel," Richard says, holding Asbel's name in his mouth like a precious thing.

"Richard, come over here already! Stop hovering."

And what can Richard do but obey?

It's cold in a way Richard can truly feel, pressing against his skin and burning down the inside of his throat like a physical presence. Asbel pulled them out of his room before they could get truly,  _properly_ dressed, so they're both shivering as they look up into the falling snow, and Asbel tucks himself into the curve of Richard's body like he was always meant to be there. Richard, who is selfish at the best of times, says nothing about getting dressed better and just holds Asbel closer and closer, an arm wrapped around his waist. 

"What are you thinking about?" Asbel asks, the words escaping in a cloud of white fog.

There are several ways he could answer that, but his mind doesn't get any input before his lips blurt out, "Proposing to you."

Under his arm, Asbel stills. Then shivers. And stills again.

(Richard closes his eyes for just a moment. Swears a lot in his head. While true, this is not exactly the way he was planning on it happening.)

Then Asbel says, choked, "Really?"

He needs to see Asbel's face. Richard pulls away, enough to give Asbel a little room, but he doesn't take his hand off Asbel's shoulder.

"I knew I wanted to marry you the moment we met," Richard whispers, like it's a secret. Like there's someone in the world who doesn't already know, who can't  _tell_ , that Richard is absolutely  _gone_ over Asbel. Richard feels like a lit beacon sometimes. Like anyone looking for direction can know how much Richard loves Asbel and use that to find their way. A guidepost. A constant.

Asbel's cheeks, already pink from the cold, darken even more before he moves into Richard's space. Cold, cold hands run up his neck, his jaw, as Asbel tilts the barest inch up and kisses him. It's gentle and soft, oddly numb because of the weather, but the warmth of Asbel's breath makes up for it.  _Asbel_ makes up for everything, if Richard wants to be honest with himself. There is not a single thing in this world he would not suffer if it meant he could have this.

(That, too, is something he keeps to himself. He's already done too much in the name of far, far less.)

"Richard," Asbel breathes.

And then he shoves a handful of snow down the back of Richard's jacket. 

The noise Richard makes can best be described as a squawk and circumspectly should not be described as anything at all, because  _kings_ don't  _squawk_ like that; no, not even when unceremoniously attacked with snow, Asbel, stop  _laughing_ and hold still for  _two seconds_ so Richard can get you back!

No one would ever believe they had found the King of Windor rolling around in the snow, so this, too, remains special and secret between the two of them.

("I wanted to marry you too. I do want to marry you," Asbel says into the small space between them as Richard presses him back into the snow. "Please, I love you."

Richard rolls on top of him and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, and when he shoves his freezing hands beneath Asbel's shirt, he laughs and calls it revenge and calls it the sweet, indulgent feeling in his heart, and calls it love.)

 


End file.
